


Leaders Are Not Supposed to Cry

by Red_Ce



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Homesick Lance (Voltron), Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining Shiro (Voltron), shiro has doubts about his abilities as a leader, this started out sad but turned sappy real quick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 22:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13645650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Ce/pseuds/Red_Ce
Summary: After a terrible disaster on a planet they were supposed to protect, Shiro has doubts about how suited he really is to be the leader of Voltron. Lance comforts him.





	Leaders Are Not Supposed to Cry

The room was dark. It was the castleship’s night cycle, and the only illumination came from the faint glowing strips around the walls of Shiro’s room. He sat, head in his hands. There was an unbearable stillness in his chest. What a failure he was. The day’s events played out in his head on repeat, over and over and over. An endless montage of his failure. 

Still, he was a leader. He had to be strong- for his team, for the rebellion, for the universe. He had to be strong; he was a leader. And leaders did not cry. 

There was a whoosh, and his door opened. He jerked his head up. The castle’s locking system meant the personal room doors opened only for their respective occupants. To have it open without Shiro’s consent would mean either Pidge or-

“Lance.” 

“Hey, Shiro.” 

“What are you doing here, Lance?” He did not ask the obvious question of why the door let Lance in. He knew that already, and really, really did not want to point it out. And he needed all of his attention to pull together the tattered scraps of his composure. 

“I’m worried about you, Shiro.” Lance’s voice was soft, and Shiro could not bear it. He needed to be alone, to put himself together, to distance himself from the day. Tomorrow he could be the leader they deserved. But tonight…

His train of thought was interrupted by Lance crossing the room to where he sat against his bed on the cold floor. “Shiro, really, you can talk to us. We’re a team, you should be able to lean on us just as much as we lean on you.” 

He put his head back down on his arms. He shouldn’t be letting his team see him like this, _Lance_ of all people should not see him like this. They relied on him, he had to be strong for them. His mind was too full of static to think properly. The day’s events, on repeat. He was a failure. Lance knelt down next to him, and Shiro knew, _knew_ his face would be full of terrible concern, and Shiro simply could not face that. Not then. He had failed as their leader, had failed as the head of Voltron. 

Lance touched his shoulder, soft as a butterfly wing. “You know it’s not your fault, right?” 

Something broke in Shiro. Not his fault? He was the leader of Voltron. The catastrophe of the planet Theron rested on his shoulders. It was always his fault. 

“I’m serious, Shiro, it’s not your fault.” 

He began to cry, because this, this was what he could not handle. Even after everything, this disaster of a tragedy, he could put himself together, patch himself up well enough to be close to his normal self in the morning. He could move on, at least on the surface. But to have Lance be so kind to him? To have him kneel by his side, tell him it would be okay? It was unbearable. 

“Shiro, it’s all right. All of us hurt. What happened- it was awful. But we’re here to support each other for this kind of things. You don’t have to bottle it up.” 

He tried to hold it back, stop the tears, because he was a leader, and leaders were not supposed to cry. He told Lance as much.

Lance pulled back, disquieted, then lifted Shiro’s chin. His fingers were cool. He placed his hands on either side of Shiro’s face, and just looked at him. Shiro couldn’t stop the tears, and God, he must have been a mess, red eyes and ugly scar and stress-bleached hair in disarray.

“Shiro. Shiro, look at me. You are human; you’re allowed to cry. You’re allowed to feel.”

He could only shake his head. Not him. He had to be their leader, had to hold himself together, had to be strong. But he had failed them, failed the whole planet of Theron. He couldn’t lead Voltron well enough to save them. He couldn’t drive off the Galra, had to watch as they sparked a fire that consumed the whole planet, along with its citizens. The Galra didn’t need those living on it, after all. Just the minerals at its core, and those minerals wouldn’t burn. 

“I failed them all.” A quiet admission, all he would allow himself.

“We all did.” Shiro’s eyes widened at Lance’s words. “We _all_ failed them. Voltron is a team, and we were all there, all trying to save them. And we didn’t. That’s not any of our fault alone. That’s on all of our shoulders.” Lance’s hands were still on Shiro’s face, and he moved them to let them rest on his shoulders. “It’s a burden we all have to bear, but we can bear it together. We’re a _team_ , Shiro.” 

And because it was Lance, and because it was late and Shiro was tired, tired, tired, he let himself believe it. The tension melted out of his body. Lance moved to sit beside him. 

“This really is a bullshit thing we’re doing, isn’t it.” It was not a question. 

Shiro laughed wetly, scrubbing the lingering tears from his face. “You got that right.”

“I mean, who decided a bunch of teenagers should save the universe? When we mess up, like today, we mess up bad. It’s impossible!” Lance threw his hands up, voice rising in pitch. 

“I know.”

“Like, who decided we were the chosen ones? What’s so special about us?” He quieted down, then, “I’m tired.”

“Me too, Lance. We all are.”

“I’m _tired_ , Shiro.” 

“I know.” Then it was Shiro’s turn to follow Lance, because as long as they were being honest, he might as well get everything out in the open. Or almost everything, at any rate. “I want to go home.”

“What?” From Lance’s voice, it was clear he hadn’t expected that. 

“I want to go home. I’m tired of all this. And I know I can’t, we _can’t_ , but I want to, so bad. The Galra already had me as their prisoner for a year, and now it’s on our shoulders to save the universe from them. And I know it’s important, and the black lion chose me, and I should feel honored and all that, but I want to go _home_ , Lance.” 

“Oh.”

“I know you want to, too.”

A nod, eyes scrunched like he was trying not to cry. “I’m so homesick sometimes I can’t breathe. I miss my mom, and my family, and the rain, and the beach.” His voice quavered.

“I was closer to Pidge’s family than I ever was to my own, but they were still my family. They probably think I’m dead; the Garrison declared the Kerberos Mission lost. What if they never find out otherwise?” Then, quieter, “What if it turns out they’re right?”

Lance scrambled up, moving to kneel in front of him again. Shiro turned to the side so he didn’t have to look Lance in the eyes. 

“Shiro, look at me.” A command, and Shiro obeyed. Lance grabbed his hand. “We will make it home. We will. We’ll see our families again, and we’ll win this.”

“But what if we don’t?” His voice was small, and sounded very much like a broken thing.

“We will.” Helpless. “We _have_ to.” 

There was really nothing more to say after that, so they sat in silence. Lance moved back to sitting against the bed next to Shiro. He hadn’t let go of his hand. They fell asleep like that, Lance slowly tipping so his head was resting on Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro froze, then relaxed, letting himself give in to sleep as well. 

 

They woke up suddenly, at the same time, due entirely to a belligerent Keith pounding on Shiro’s door. 

“Shiro, wake up, I can’t find Lance! That asshole was supposed to train with me this morning!” Shiro guessed he was trying to sound annoyed, but was mostly succeeding in sounding like he was sulking. 

Lance grinned sheepishly at Shiro, then froze when he saw their hands were still linked and how close they were sitting. The pounding on the door started up again and jerked him out of his stupor. Lance leaned in close, until Shiro could feel his breath flutter in his ear. “Can I hide in your bathroom? I’m a little terrified of facing a pissed off Keith right now.” 

Shiro’s heart stopped, then he whispered back, just as quietly, “Of course. I can distract him while you hide.” 

Lance nodded in thanks, squeezing their still-linked hands, and stood before slipping into the bathroom. The door shut behind him with barely a click. 

“Shiro, I know you’re in there! Stop ignoring me! You can have your beauty sleep after helping me find Lance!” 

Shiro winced, then stood, groaning at the soreness that came from a great deal of strenuous fighting before sleeping on a hard floor. “Coming! Chill, Keith, give me a tick to wake up.” He allowed himself three breaths to brush away the painful cobwebs of last night, and two to push away the flush on his face from Lance’s proximity, then opened the door. 

“Keith.”

“Shiro.” 

“Why did you wake me up?”

“I couldn’t find Lance.”

“And that’s my problem because…?”

“You never know! He could have been kidnapped or something.”

“Keith,” Shiro sighed, “I’m sure we would have noticed someone sneaking into the castle. Did you check anywhere other than his room before coming to find me? Are you sure he’s not just eating breakfast?”

Keith paused. “Uh, no?”

Shiro closed his eyes. “Why don’t you do that? If you really can’t find him anywhere, then I can help.”

“Hey, don’t blame me, I panicked! I’ll go find him now.” He marched off down the hallway, nose in the air. 

Shiro very gently hit his head against the doorframe. He could have still been cuddled next to Lance… He pushed it off, going to tell Lance it was clear to come out of the bathroom. 

When Lance stood next to him in his room, Shiro shifted awkwardly, not knowing quite what to do with his hands. They really had fit well into Lance’s. “Okay, you’d better head back to your room and tell Keith you went to get breakfast and you just missed each other or something.”

“Got it.”

“And Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks a lot.” Shiro smiled softly, and if he wasn’t mistaken, that was a blush painting Lance’s cheeks. “You really helped me.” 

“No problem, Shiro.” He turned very quickly and walked into the hall, headed for his room. Shiro didn’t know what to do with himself now. There wasn’t much _to_ do. So he cleaned himself up, changed out of the clothes he had been wearing since the day before, and put himself back together, one piece at a time.

As he did, he discovered that while he was by no means fine, and the pain of Theron still weighed on him, he could look forward. He had hope. Thanks to Lance, he wasn’t fine, but he was getting there. He smiled. 

 

From then on, when they lost, as they did often, and when Shiro had doubts, as he did often, he didn’t bottle it up. It took coaxing from Lance, but he shared with the team. And they, in turn, shared with him. They supported each other. 

To Allura’s delight, their communication made Voltron that much stronger, as did when two of Voltron’s paladins stopped hiding their feelings for each other and finally, finally confessed. Shiro still worried. He still felt the grief of every planet, every person they couldn’t save. He was still homesick. But he had Lance. They had each other.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, feel free to check out my other stuff! I also have a [tumblr](http://randomfangirllaughs.tumblr.com/)


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